


summer disappears like a dream I had

by ozmissage



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-18
Updated: 2012-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-10 05:15:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/462580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozmissage/pseuds/ozmissage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Jon brings the ice with him from The Wall. The chill winds follow him through the gates of Winterfell; Robb feels him before he sees him.</i> AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	summer disappears like a dream I had

**Author's Note:**

  * For [toesohnoes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toesohnoes/gifts).



Winter is here.

Jon brings the ice with him from The Wall. The chill winds follow him through the gates of Winterfell; Robb feels him before he sees him.

“You look cold, brother,” Jon remarks, a smirk on his lips that reminds Robb of their youth, of the long summer they’ve left behind.

“You look old,” he bites back as he gets up from his makeshift throne to embrace his brother.

Jon does look older; his time beyond The Wall has left him scarred; long, ugly lines mar his face and Robb knows that those scars are just the beginning. Beneath his cloak, Jon’s body will no doubt bear the remnants of a war. Robb the king wears no scars, and he hates himself for it.

“Welcome home,” Robb whispers against Jon’s cheek in the moment before their lips meet. It’s been ten years, but Jon still tastes sweet. Jon backs them into the throne and the crown that sits so heavy on Robb’s head clatters to the floor.

-

When they were children, and their father was away, Robb would slip from his bedchamber and creep down the dark hall to Jon’s room at night. Once there, he would climb into bed next to his brother, their small bodies curling against one another for warmth.

There was no one to tuck Jon in when father was away, no one but Old Nan, and Robb always knew that wasn’t enough.

“I wish I had been born a bastard too,” Robb would whisper.

And Jon would scoff, “No, you don’t.”

“I do,” Robb always insisted. He meant it too. But only in the night, only when the world shrank down to just him and Jon, when the morrow came he would remember his mother and his birthright and he would feel guilty for not wanting to share the moniker of Snow with Jon anymore.

Robb remembers this.

So does Jon.

“Do you still want to be a bastard, Robb?” Jon asks as they lay together, their bodies tangled in the darkness like the old days, only now there is no innocence in the act.

“Better a bastard, than a king,” Robb replies bitterly, his thumb tracing a particularly deep gash in Jon’s side. “What did this?”

“A knife,” Jon says with a laugh, offering no elaboration. He keeps his stories to himself now. Robb selfishly thinks he has no right.

Robb slides down the bed until his face is at Jon’s side and he lets his tongue graze the gash, feels proud of himself when the muscles in Jon’s stomach tense and tighten.

“Tell me,” he commands.

But Jon is his brother and Robb will never be his king.

“It’s just another story that ends in blood, and I don’t want to think of blood, not today. Let’s not waste this,” Jon says.

On this point, they agree. They don’t have time to waste on bickering or regrets, Jon will have to move on soon and Robb will be left alone to rule what’s left of his kingdom.

Robb moves further down the bed still, uses his hands and lips to make his brother keen.

-

“Do you hate it so much?” Jon asks.

They’re both spent and sleep is coming to claim them, but they fight it off in hope that the night might be everlasting, like the ones from their childhood.

Robb doesn’t have to ask Jon what he means.

“With all my heart,” Robb says. He prays to the old gods to take his crown, but then, he prays for a great many things.

Jon knots his fingers in Robb’s hair and forces Robb to look at him. He lets his hand rest against Robb’s cheek, the tips of his fingers grazing Robb’s lips.

“And how much do you love me?” Jon asks.

Robb smiles sadly, “With all my heart.”

-

The morning comes, although no one tells the sun.

Jon rides off into the darkness, clad all in black, a shadow among shadows, and Robb remains, the crown returned to his head.


End file.
